Tower
by Kyrosumi san
Summary: Nobody ever wondered what lay inside it, but up an elevator and along some steel planks lies a secret that no one would've ever guessed could've existed.
1. Chapter 1

_I do not own Hetalia, Hidekaz Himaruya does. I do not own anything I might've stolen from anyone, and thanks to those who inspire me!_

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><p>Chapter One: Not A Circle; A Man<p>

Rain poured down from the gutters above. The sky was a dark, sleek black, illuminated by the crashes of thunder clapping back and forth between flashes of lightening. The streets, murky and filled with puddles, were dark, and yet, despite the emptiness of the town, a small village somewhere in the middle of nowhere, a place that does not be, a town that does not exist, a man in his early twenties stepped out from an apartment building that had no address and into the rain, throwing up the hood from his black jacket. This town was a nether land, or, more appropriately, Neverville, for it cannot be found no matter how hard a human look, and it cannot be see no matter how much your eyes strain. This town was meant completely for those who do not exist, but are there every day, for they are the world. You cannot simply stop and talk to the world, unless you feel talking to the ground or hugging a tree will get you anywhere in life, no, and yet you can meet these countries, for they are wandering all around their land every minute of every day.

Except once a month. Usually on the nineteenth of every month, the world had a meeting properly called the World Conference.

Alfred F. Jones _is _America. He is the rolling plains of wheat and the purple mountains, he is every founding father's dream, and he is every cry his soldiers make for their country. They fight for _him_ so that _he _could live, and with it, so can they. America, or Alfred, rather, walked out into the rain with one thought on his mind: food. You might think a country would act more noble, or would have a better purpose than to bicker and fight with the other residents of the town in nowhere, yet nay, if you think about it, that's not how the world acts. And still he does not control the way he does, he was made that way, and therefore, it is not his fault. Yet he does take pride and how he acts, and so does his other ego, Abigail R. Jones, for if you asked any America, they were solely proud to be who and what they where. Alfred and Abigail were ultimately the same person, the same thing, yet two different beings all together. Abigail was, obviously, a girl, who personified the American woman, while Alfred was the America man. At the moment, Abigail was in her room clicking through the reality channels on the television, and a moment later he'd been on the couch with her, but then they'd gotten hungry, so he decided to venture into the pouring rain to get something to munch on. Abigail and Alfred weren't technically related, yet it was common for the two genders of the same country to share a living space. Nobody expected anything to go on between the same country of a person, so it was looked past. Most of the time they looked alike, so even if a human would ever question their living habits, they'd merely take them as relatives, and move on.

Alfred was thinking of cheeseburgers as he walked out into the street. Yes, some nice, juicy fries ought to do the trick. The town that did not exist had everything a person from all over the world could ask for right at their fingertips, so walking to a McDonalds wasn't a large feat. He hunched his shoulders to try and get the rain from his face, even though his hood up he was getting soaked, and he grumbled about why he'd forgotten an umbrella or a rain coat in the first place. With his one strange of hair that always stuck up drooping in his eyes, he blew dripping rain from his face, off his lips and from the tip of his nose and turned toward the glowing yellow lights of the fast food restaurant. He opened the doors, and was, naturally, the only one in there, including where there should've been laborious teenagers ready to get him his food. He walked around to the back of the kitchen, where there seemed to always be a burger and fires waiting for him. This time there was a Big Mac, two servings of fries and some chicken nuggets. He knew the nuggets were for Abigail- she'd always preferred them more than the burgers, something he'd never been able to understand. He took the meal from the tray that stood in the back of the empty kitchen and stuffed it in a happy meal bag, then walked back from the empty store. He wondered where everyone else was- usually there was someone else in the world out on the streets of the town in nowhere, but tonight no one else was out on the streets.

Except when he rounded the corner back onto the street to get home. He stopped dead, a abrupt halt, as a girl with an umbrella poised over her head had almost rounded the corner into him.

"Allison!" The surprise in his voice was evident. If anyone was going to be wandering around in the middle of the night, it definitely wasn't the blonde pig-tailed British young lady, who rarely even went out of her house in the first place. This was clearly a shock to the both of them, because to her, who always knew Alfred to be holed up in his home with Abigail playing video games long into the night, she hadn't expected anyone to be out in the rain. Allison, normally looking irritated about anything, expressed mirrored surprise, and then frowned at the situation.

"Alfred, what're you doing out so late?" She asked. Allison had always been sort of a bossy lady and acted like his mother almost all the time, but he had a feeling she was still in denial about the independence thing. Of course, he figured she'd enjoyed taking care of the two American persons when they were growing up just as much as Arthur had, but she wasn't taking being around him so well. Alfred always thought she was always just a little more cranky half the time than even Arthur was, if that was even possible, but she could be nice when she wanted to be. Allison was wearing a black raincoat that fit over a long plaid skirt and tights with suitable, modest black shoes on her feet. She dressed like she was straight from _Mary Poppins_, Alfred always thought, but somehow it was cute. Alfred and Abigail had caught up to the British nations in age, so it wasn't hard for him to think of Allison in that way. However, Arthur would be extremely irritated if he ever found out he was hitting on his other half.

"Hungry," he answered, holding up the bag. It was almost soaked through by now, and he wrinkled his nose. Well, it would probably still taste the same. He swept a look up and down her. "Why, what're you doing out so late as well?"

"Taking a walk," she answered simply. They fell into step together towards Alfred's house, walking together through the puddles as she lifted her umbrella over her head. "Why on earth did you go out in the rain without a coat? You could catch a cold that way."

"I forgot," Alfred answered with an oblivious grin. Allison's lips tightened as she thought over Alfred's poor decision, and he scratched the back of hi wet head. "Um, yeah, I didn't think it was raining this hard."

"Well," she said, bristling, pushing up her wire-framed glassed higher onto her nose so that her green eyes glinted back at him. Alfred wondered how long it was going to take her to get over his silly act. She took a deep breath and clutched her umbrella tightly. "You should at least drink something warm when you get inside," she told him carefully, measuring the amount of direction in her voice. Then her eyebrows came together, a little irritated. "And for goodness sakes-"

"Yeah, don't worry I will," Alfred cut her off, huddling under the umbrella, closer to her shoulders where she ducked down, her cheeks flushing. Now that there wasn't a constant pouring water on his back, he shivered, his teeth chattering loudly against their silence that accompanied them fro the rest of the walk. He wondered what she was tittering about, but he really didn't care at that moment. "I know how to take care of myself," he mumbled, too low for Allison to hear- which was a good thing, because when he talked like that it usually ended up in some very loud and angry argument that ended in tears- usually on Allison's end. Both the British nations were a little emotional about just everything, thought Arthur, counter to his other half, usually only showed that side of himself when beer was involved.

They rounded the corner into the entrance to his apartment and she stopped outside the steps, waiting for him to get the door for her. Alfred guessed she was used to being sucked up to, living with a nancy like Arthur all the time who reflected on gentlemanly behavior. But he hadn't had neither Arthur nor Allison over at his home for a good while, since then things had been moved around and replaced. The apartment was about four stories high in which there were no other residents but himself, his on the very top level with large windows and modern furniture, with two small bedrooms and one bathroom he and Abigail shared with the compromise of a snake and a wolf. The two were never very good at sharing, no matter how alike. He started to push the key into the doorknob, when she asked; "You'll let me come in? I haven't seen Abigail in a while."

"Sure," he said. He wondered how Abigail would take that- for some reason she got along better with Arthur while Alfred and Allison were more compatible. Arthur was just as unstable toward him as Abigail had been in her teenage years, which was practically a nightmare of raging out-of-whack hormones. Maybe it had something to do with how they were raised, he didn't know. Allison accompanied him up the stairs, a few steps behind since she shook out her umbrella and the folded it, looking more like Ms. Poppins than ever. All she needed was a bag that could fit entire lamps and desks inside it. They entered his apartment with the same unexpected air wafting around the room, not sure how to react to the mutual awkwardness between them, so she paused by the doorframe and didn't fully step in.

"Abby!" Alfred yelled Abigail's nickname around the corner loud enough to reach her room, where she lay on her stomach across a pink starred bedspread with a game controller in her hand. "I got soaking Mickey's! And Allison is here." The last sentence was spoken with a bit less enthusiasm, and he saw Allison look down, embarrassed.

Around the corner sidled Abigail, her lips pursed. She didn't resent Allison, who offered a tiny smile and a hand wave, then a grin stretched across her face. She stepped fully into the kitchen, wearing tiny pajama shorts with the Wonder Woman emblem all over them and a red tank top, her blond hair floating over her shoulders in light, flirty waves bouncing around her face. She came up to Allison and grinned.

"What's up? Didn't think you were a night owl," she said, taking the spoiled bag from Alfred and taking a peek, then grimacing and leaning against her counter lazily. Alfred knew that the stare between them was confident on one end- he wondered if it had to do with girls and their self-esteem between each other. He wasn't about to decide who was prettier, but he could feel Abigail taking in the plaid skirt and tights like a sponge, then her mouth moved to one side of her face.

"Oh, I'm not," Allison said, flapping her hand at the comment. She seemed to ignore the way Abigail had sized her up. She quietly shifted her feet in the silence as Alfred stuffed a couple wet fries into his mouth without a care about their condition. "Well…I just thought I'd drop in to see you," she said, taking her umbrella in both hands.

"Hey, it's cool," Abigail said, pushing away the bag. "Good to see you." The way she sounded like she threw out the words made Alfred catch Allison's offended wince.

"Right. I-I mean, yes, it was." She backed up, looking extremely cornered. "I think I'll go…Arthur's probably wondering where I am."

"Hey, say hi for me," Abigail said quickly, the enthusiasm back in her voice. She paused, biting her lip and squeezing in her shoulders. "Um, please."

"Yeah, me too," Alfred chimed in, just as Allison opened her mouth to speak.

It was definitely clear which of the British countries' gender was proffered. Allison tried not to look offended, but her eyebrows arched in a line together, and she nodded and put her hand on the doorknob to go-

Alfred didn't like the disclosed look on her face as she left, yet he couldn't help himself as he saw Abigail turn away and take the fire escape ladder down into the street for something, he caught the door just as Allison was ready to close it and he offered her a grin. "We should get together sometime," he said quickly, ignoring the surprised look on her face. "Er, I mean…" Allison had let go of the door so they stood with a half-closeted door between them, and Alfred reached up to scratch the back of his head like he usually did when he was nervous. "Like I really miss your fish and chips these days, so, like, could we do it sometime?"

"Oh," Allison's look was pure surprise, her eyes wide. She struggled to put herself back together. She shook herself quickly. "That would be lovely. I'll drop you a call when I talk to Arthur about dates, so we can find a day that works for the four of us."

"Dates?" Alfred's mind had stumbled on the word. "I didn't…uh, mean like…a…_date._"

"As in days of the week, Alfred," Allison said glumly. But she forced a smile out. "I'll call you once I get an answer, don't worry."

"Right," Alfred said, backing away. "No worrying here."

"Goodnight. Don't stay up too late."

"I won't!" And with that, he closed the door, and Allison retreated down the stairs.

While all this was happening, Ivan Braginski, the tall, Russian nation looked out the window at the rain splattering the paned windowsill of his house. Unlike most of the nations living in the town that did not exist, he lived more outside of it, in a field that did not exist and a house that was not there, for he had lived alone almost all his life, and it was nothing he and Ivisse (the typical Russian woman, like himself in almost every way) weren't used to. The two of them had a very large house all to themselves, where no matter how warm it was in town, it was always cold in the field they lived in. Of course, the town that did not exist was merely a scramble of all the things that made up the land of the nations, so it was no wonder that Ivan lived in a dying field alone, and that Alfred lived in a busy city-like landscape with lots of residents that never existed either. His fingers glazed the window pane, and Ivisse came and stood next to him, gazing out in the same unfeeling manner. They looked genuinely alike, even though some of the womanly counterparts were quite indifferent to each other. They had the same unnatural lavender eyes and soft, airy white-blond hair; yet while Ivisse wasn't as tall as Ivan, she could sport just as he to be about a head taller than anyone else almost all the time. They weren't exactly petite, yet they weren't extremely rounded, their body types were stocky and full.

"I wonder if anyone is outside tonight," Ivan said. His voice was usually cheerful, and it was when he spoke as well, but mixed with his accent, he would always sound between the fine line of intoxication and flaxy happiness. Their voices were round and deep, and sometimes hard to understand when speaking English.

"They are probably all inside," Ivisse answer solemnly, taking her hand off the windowpane and backing to the sofa where she sat and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. "Nobody likes the rain. What would you do, Ivan, if you saw anyone outside?"

"I would say hello," Ivan said, and he took his coat from the hanger by the door. He smiled as he pulled his arms through. "I think I will do that now."

"Is someone outside?" Ivisse's voice was surprised, but she didn't get up from her seat quite yet.

"Hmm…no…but it's quite cold in the house. I'm going into town so I can warm up." He opened the door and stepped into the sleet, his hair almost instantly matting to his feet. He walked down the path which always lead into the town, like any path he took, worn down or not, somehow always ended up in the same east-side alley by Yao's house. Here the roads were cobbled and not paved like in most of the town, and the lights were lit by lanterns hanging from all the Chinese stores, casting an orange glow as he walked around the little Chinatown and into the more city-like landscape that most of Europe was made up of. He might've been aimlessly been walking around, and eventually he came along the other side of the town, back in the same field. He had always thought this was strange. No matter where he went in that town, there was always an exit, and that exit always lead to the field in which he lived. None of the other nations questioned it, and he might've not if he didn't take a keen liking to his everyday living space. In the mansion he shared with Ivisse, there were a total of eight fireplaces, but only one worked properly. He and Ivisse shared the same wish that was never quite expressed, but felt mutually between them, and that was that they could live in town. He had a feeling the city, in the way it seemed to feel and have a very mind of it's own, would not abide to this wish. The city itself seemed to want them there, and it was like an unsolvable paradox in which he could not leave. Not a lot of action had gone on in the world since the cold war and the Vietnam war, sure, people were fighting outside the town that did not exist, but the countries themselves rarely went on the battlefield together with their citizens anymore. He remembered the time when he could enjoy a good bloodbath, but now…? The only thing that ever really threatened the world was a zombie apocalypse.

Ivan turned back, in China town again, then took a few turns down the street into a little section of Europe and stared up. In the middle of the town that did not exist was a gigantic clock, identical to the one that sat in his living room, but larger by about a hundred feet. _Tock. _He knew that clock could make any time possible, for history was an unreeling events that could be replayed, but not undone. That clock, with it's golden hands, looming ominously over the town like a watchtower. The little windows far up were always steamed up, like something hot lay inside. Of course, the tower only had one door on the other side, but it was always locked. Everyone at one point had tried to open it, but it never budged.

The sound of footsteps made him look to the west, where a modern-looking alley was dimly lit, and out of it came the blonde-curly-haired America, or Abigail, by name, with a bright green raincoat and a large bubbled of gum between her lips. The bubble pooped when she approached him, and the gum fit back into her mouth, licking her lips, looking like the entire world was an expense to her every need. Abigail didn't bother him so much- _Alfred _did, who was the loudest and most irritating being on the planet that he could name. Yet Abigail was loud as well, but not nearly in the same way. She seemed to at least function and weigh her annoyances somehow so that they could be in the same room together with compatible frustration floating between them. Yes, frustration was the perfect word for his feelings toward her. He didn't know quite what to think, only that Ivisse hated her just as much as he hated Alfred. Ivan knew he had no place hating Abigail, for when countries went up against each other it was usually the dominant gender, which wasn't always man, but in Abigail's case, she and Ivisse had come head to head thirty years ago. Yet she was still _America, _she and Alfred were the same thing, but with a simple pact signed between their bosses, they were 'supposed' to be friends. Ivan didn't want to suddenly start a war by hitting Alfred upside the head (but it certainly would give him much pleasure) with his faucet, he just tried to steer clear of both of them. Tonight, it was inevitable, but to his surprise, Abigail came and stood with a good meter of space between them, attempting another bubble as she stared up at the clock.

"Ever wonder what's up there?" She asked him suddenly, the gum making her words trip a little. She blew a last bubble, then took her gum out of her mouth, rolled it between her fingers and then through it down the alley she'd come from. Ivan knew the second it would hit the pavement it would vanish instantly, being impossible to litter in the town that did not exist.

"Yes… I was actually just wondering that," he admitted cheerfully. His hands were in the pockets of his long black coat- he was still cold, but then again, it was raining. He looked over at Abigail, the front of her hair wet while the water falling off her shoulders was sleek, and smiled. She grimaced, an attempt to be friendly, yet he had a feeling it wasn't because of him.

In fact, Abigail actually didn't mind being around Ivan at the moment. She was thinking about Alfred, knowing he completely loved Allison and was just a stubborn idiot that wouldn't admit it. Of course, Arthur did have something going for him, but nothing she could really take keen interest to. Arthur was more like her older brother, and Alfred had frequently claimed the same about Allison- which confused her the most. Who would ever want to fall in love with their sister? "Do you think incest is gross?" Abigail aimlessly threw out into the awkward silence that held between them, looking up at him.

"_Yes,_" Ivan said sincerely, his eyes wide. Then he relaxed again, wiping his wet hair across his forehead. "I have a sister who wants to marry me, if that counts."

"Ew," Abigail said, a sneer on her lip. She remembered Belarus, a creepy, vampire-like girl that always clung to the back of Ivan's coat whenever they were together. What you didn't want was to catch Belarus alone, which was a recipe for disaster if you loved your life like every other person in the world. But Natalya was definitely pretty, which made up for some of the disaster of the scenario- and Alfred wasn't lacking in the same category either, so wasn't like Allison wouldn't have nothing to look at. Abigail blew out a sigh.

"That's a funny question. Why do you ask?" Ivan said, tilting his head to one side. "Do you have a sister after you as well?"

"Um, one," Abigail's voice was a little irritated now. "I'm not a lesbian, so adding the fact to a _sister _trying to marry me would be extremely wrong and weird on all different disgust-levels that I think I'd puke every time I thought about that."

Ivan bristled, shaking off her ignorant tone and trying to keep calm between them. "Right," he agreed quietly.

"And two," Abigail continued, blowing out a sigh that made the few annoying strands of hair in front of her face blow up. "I asked because I think _Alfred _is in love with _Allison. _Not me. Don't tell him I told you that."

"I won't," Ivan promised lightly. "Because I think if I ever saw his face I'd want to punch it in, not spread rumors around about it." He gazed back up at the clock again. "Who is Allison again? I can't remember who that is right now."

"She's Arthur's counterpart," Abigail explained quickly. "But…I guess since we aren't one nation anymore, it doesn't really count, right? I mean, like, it was kind of like disowning us…right?"

"I guess…"

"Sorry," Abigail shook her shoulders, making droplets of water fall to the ground around them. She slumped forward a bit, her lower lip pulling out as she made a very loud "bleh" noise that Ivan chuckled at. "I'm trying not to think of it as some gross Medieval TV show. Do you get it?"

Ivan switched the subject, his mind floating back to the clock tower as he blinked out the rain staring up at it. "What do you think is up there?" The question was obvious in every way, like he was asking the question with his face when he turned it toward her, meeting her eyes. "It's bothering me. Not knowing what makes the windows foggy."

"Foggy?" Abigail put a hand over her eyes to keep out the splatter and went to stand beside Ivan for a better view, in case she was missing something from where she was standing. The clock tower's face was white glass all right, but it and the windows, like Ivan claimed, seemed to be blotchy and white, like they _should _be clear glass, but not quite. The hands of the second's arm ticked in a full circle before she nodded to his claim. "I don't know," she said. It never really occurred to her, but then again, Ivan wasn't exactly the most normal person in the world-it didn't surprise her that his mind wandered that far. She looked over at him, a grin stretching on her face. "I'm going to check it out," she claimed.

"The door is locked," Ivan said, but her followed her anyway.

"That's nothing brute force can't handle," Abigail said excitedly, cracking her knuckles and approaching the door with a determined look.

Ivan actually found it kind of funny, the way she struggled. Abigail huffed and pushed on the huge door on the outside of the clock tower, but the door didn't even shake a little. Once she spotted Ivan's inconspicuous smile hooded by his eyes, she blew a raspberry as his and kicked the door with the back of her foot, slamming it with her back. She _was _strong, there was no doubt about it, and for her size, even more so. Yet no matter how many times she'd wrestled with Alfred who could spin buffalo around at a very small age, this door would not budge to save her life. The gilded gold against the back of her raincoat dug into her ribs as she shoved and heaved, then finally as she slanted to try and open it once more, her boots misguided and she went rear-first into a puddle, knocking her head against the door in the process painfully.

Ivan laughed one small laugh in a small version of his own triumph, and approached the door. He wasn't intentionally trying to show off, but Abigail couldn't help herself when all it took for him to move it was a push with both hands, and with a crack, the door groaned, fell from it's hinges and slammed to the ground inside of the clock tower, a layer of dust escaping beneath it like scared kittens. Ivan carefully wiped his hands on his jacket, and then bent down to help Abigail to her feet, but she was already there, hitting rain off her clothes with a jealous look on her face as she pushed past him, mumbling an almost-incoherent 'thanks' that Ivan was almost sure he hadn't heard, but the only other noise inside it except for the loud cranking of the gears above them.

Abigail craned her neck upward as Ivan propped the door, leaning on the wall that had once been the doorframe. Spreading above them was an elevator with blue windows that looked extremely old, however, it was only suspended by steel poles and wires like that of the old elevators. There were no stairs, why anyone would ever want to walk the entire way up was beyond her, and the only light coming in was from the broken door now and the windows and clock face above them. Ivan was right- it _was _steam, and it was very hot in there. Abigail didn't narrate what she was doing because it was painfully obvious, and Ivan unbuttoned his long coat to let it flap open as she hit the elevator's button and the doors opened, then they both stepped inside, facing each other from opposite walls. The doors closed, and Ivan hit the only button from the side door that obviously lead all the way up. For a few minutes, Ivan and Abigail stood in the four-by-four box suspended in the air, meeting both of their direct gaze like two strangers holding a staring contest from across a street. Abigail could smell Ivan- like fire and ice at the same time, the two most opposite things mixed as one. Of course, he must have to be around a fire a lot, she figured, living in that cold wasteland that made up his country, and yet, the smell was a mix of his character, almost. His mood swings were such a confusing roller coaster that Abigail gave up trying to keep up with him. Of course, Ivisse hadn't been level-headed either, but she seemed a little more…sinister. Maybe it was because he was a man- to her, girls always seemed like they could be more…evil? Was that even the right word? She didn't know Ivan that much, but Ivisse had stuck around long enough to give an impression- to her face, at least, with that stupid shovel of hers. Ivan…? She had always thought Alfred had got it off easier than her in the eighties, well, at least Ivan would smile as he shot you.

Then there was a cheerful _ding _and the elevator doors opened. It wasn't really a competition for who could get out the fastest, just who would go first. Abigail supposed he was at least a gentlemen and would let her go first, but that was not the case. Ivan thought that Abigail might want him to go before in case something dangerous sprung out at them, but apparently Abigail was just as arrogant as Alfred. Well, they _were _American, he thought, and Abigail pushed herself out before him, and stepped onto a metal platform hanging by chains, almost a hundred and fifty feet from the ground.

"Know what's weird?" Abigail whispered, but she spoke loud enough Ivan behind her could hear over the gears cranking together.

"What is weird?" Ivan answered, stepping beside her, not wanted to feel like the lead-ed. Abigail's legs were shorter, so even though she stepped up her pace a little, he could keep in step easily.

"I've got a clock just like this one, but smaller. On my nightstand, in my room. It usually wakes me up in the morning because it chimes really loudly at seven," she said matter-of-factly, taking the time to step around a huge box of wooden-something planted by the side of the rail. There were lamps, chandeliers, boxes and trunks everywhere, so they were constantly widening and squeezing in their path, but never touching. They didn't know why the mist was clinging to the windows, but they had a feeling they'd find out soon.

"That is weird," Ivan admitted, smiling plainly. "I have a grandfather clock in my living room like this as well."

Abigail blinked conspicuously. She paused looking up at him, then her brow furrowed, and she bit her lip. "I've seen a grandfather clock like this as well in Arthur's house, sitting in the front door hallway. I thought it was just a funny coincidence-"

"Maybe it is," Ivan interrupted, not wanting to think that something strange was behind it all, but Abigail nagged him again.

"Haven't you seen it anywhere else?" They now had the same vision in their heads- the clock, a brick tower, Ivan recalling it sitting on Toris's mantel in his home, and even Natalya had one as well, in the same form that Abigail had described. He pushed his lips together. Abigail recalled Kiku having one in his apartment as well, and she'd noticed it only because it had been so out of place among the Japanese items around the home.

"Perhaps it is a tradition," he suggested. "Like maybe the town wants us to have this clock to remember that it's there."

"Well, yeah, but why is it here? I mean, even Big Ben has a purpose, besides being Arthur's-"

"Hello!" Ivan called out to the end of the platform, his face lighting up like a neon sign outside of a casino. He stretched his arm and waved to a shriveled little figure at the end of the metal platform. Abigail stopped, taking in the little figure.

It had to be an old man, she thought, as she looked at the figure and then her heart began to pound with fear, and she took a timid step back. Ivan, however, wasn't phased by the general uncomfortable situation. Maybe he was the clock man, maybe was the caretaker of the clock's gears or something, however, she couldn't help but wonder why he was there and there wasn't any workers in McDonald's. It was just simple logic- why was he here when no one was there to make her pay at a bookstore, or why was he there when she could walk into any home and it was empty? The little old man turned around, his face positively wrinkled like a paper bag, his arms turning inward, yet somehow, even though he looked older than two hundred, he got to his feet and slowly walked toward them. Abigail couldn't help herself- her eyes widened and she was struck with the same nagging thought in her conscience- _run, run, _but she blotted out the thought once Ivan was still as cheerful as ever to see the old man. Yet when he came close enough to them to look at them between two beady eyes, and then sniff his old nose, Abigail couldn't help but give a tiny, frightened whimper. Ivan finally noticed the fear in her eyes, and he stopped smiling, now fully aware that there was something to be afraid of, yet he didn't seem scared, just alert.

"Hello… Ivan Braginski…" said the old man in a whispery voice. He held absolutely no accent, his voice was flat, and the words were almost unloving. Like this thing was not living. He looked down at Abigail, who now felt as if she could melt into a puddle and filter between the cracks of the metal platform. "Hello Abigail Jones."

"H-hi," Abigail just wasn't going to let the guy go without a greeting. At least he deserved that- maybe he was a kind old man, and Abigail was being overly frightened. The entire room was scary- so many old things packed away that she never had any memory of since they were so old she hadn't even been around to see, everything collecting in dust. She wondered how he lived up here, in the dust and the fog.

"You got in my tower," he said, smiling a toothless old smile mainly with his lips. "Good job."

"It wasn't hard," Ivan said simply, and Abigail gritted her teeth against that, casting him a dirty look and choosing to cross her arms.

"Not for you, it probably wouldn't be," said the man, chuckling. "I remember you. I wouldn't have forgot all the things you've done since you were little. I'm not the only one keeping an eye on your madness."

"I've always had it," Ivan said, confused.

Abigail looked at the man, and forced a smile. "It was my idea to come up here," she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper. "Ivan got me in. He didn't need to follow, I could handle it myself, but he did."

Well, that certainly left Ivan feeling unwanted. His eyebrows peaked together, offended.

"That's not a surprise," the man turned his back on them and hobbled over to an old chair, and sat, his legs folding up. "You and Alfred have always been the adventurous type. One of these days you're going to get in a pickle, I'm sure…"

Abigail paused, wondering if Ivan had the same question in his mind. Judging by the far-off expression he held as he stared at the clock tower's fogged face, probably not. She looked back at the old man. "Um, like, I don't want to sound stupid or anything when I ask this, but how do you know that? I've never seen you before in my life."

"Of course you haven't, the man said, still laughing a little at Abigail. He folded his hands on his knee and crossed his legs, smoothing back what little hair he had left that was almost pure silver. "But I've met you. Before Arthur went and found you on that ship hundreds of years ago."

"How?" Abigail said, her voice pitched a little too high than she wanted. Ivan made a little uncomfortable noise. "I mean…" Abigail fiddled with her fists. "Columbus came and found us. We only have natives on our land before that-"

"Exactly," the man said, tapping his knee. He signaled for them to sit down, and Ivan fell into a big leather chair while Abigail sat stiffly on a couch. The man smiled again. "Before that you were known to the natives as a different land, right? So, yes, to them you were someone else. I remember when they first found your land."

"How is that even possible?" Abigail demanded, sounding a little angry.

"Because," the old man said, spreading out his hands. "I remember Russia becoming a country, Ivan. I remember because I am old-older than you. I know everything about you, because I am Earth."

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><p><em>Please review- I am very excited about this fic. I don't know if this idea was ever out there before, but if it was, I did not mean to steal anything, because I think I remember something in another story I read online about a city that was empty like the one that does not exist- I don't know, but if I did take the idea, I don't own it. Thank you!<em>


	2. Chapter 2

_I do not own Hetalia, the characters, people, anything. Hidekaz Himaruya does, and I own nothing that I might've stolen form anyone else. Please reveiw!_

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><p>Chapter Two: The Basement<p>

The gears from the clock tower filled the silence in between them. The air was dusty and tasteless, hard to breath in around the salty smell of old things and the musty, wet air was also collapsing around them. Their breath- hers, quickened and short, Ivan's collapsed in the scarf around his neck, and the long wheezes of the old man who was smiling at her shock, mocking her surprise without any teeth, making her blood boil. She wanted to protest, she wanted to shout out against that possibility he had just stated, because it was impossible, it couldn't be real. _They _were the earth, all of them, as one huge band of bickering people, _they _were the sea and the land and the sky. Yet… come to think of it, Abigail though as she scooted to the edge of her chair, trying to think this through clearly, they were just the land, right? Not the sea and the sky, they were the countries, and they could die but the land would still be there if their nation ever collapsed. It _was _possible, Abigail was just having trouble comprehending it. Beside her, Ivan blinked. It sort of made sense to him, but another thought entered his head: Being the first nation to send a man into space, wasn't it possible that the other planets had persons as well? His mind churned, his eyes dark. If that was possible, then couldn't they be inhabited easier than their research suggested? Couldn't he have won the Space Race almost thirty years ago if he'd befriended the moon?

"If you are Earth," Ivan said, tapping his fingers on the armrests of the chair, while beside him Abigail tittered, her mouth opening and closing as her mind boggled against the statement. "Then how come Alfred didn't find someone on the Moon as the moon when he sent his man up there?"

"People can't live on the moon, Ivan," Earth said softly. He spoke to them like an old scholar, ready to share their knowledge, and kind, but something about him still had Abigail on the edge of her seat. Earth, with his wrinkled old skin and the gnarled limbs, rubbed his bony kneecaps and stretched his feet. "With help, yes. When the day comes in the future when the moon is somewhere we can live, then someone will come along. But the moon is considered part of Earth, right? It _is _with Earth, in it's orbit. That might also be why."

"So you don't know?" Abigail said, dissatisfied with his wane answer. She stood up, haughtily wiping dust and grim off her clothes, tapping her feet as she pursed her lips. "Okay, Mr. Blue Planet, here's a question: What's with the silent treatment? Why haven't I seen you before- why hasn't anyone seen you before? If you're Earth, then where have you been?"

Earth smiled warmly, the corners of his eyes draping over the lids, and yet the dark brown eyes twinkled back at her in the same warm way that even Arthur had looked at her sometimes when she was little. She took a step back, wary, and Ivan finally came to his feet. "Because, Abigail," he said. "I don't think there's much I can do anymore now that humanity's so developed. I would be your…say….Great-great grandfather. Now, that far down the line in life, what does a man have to do but sit and wait? Yes, that's what I've been doing. And now you found me, and I'm very happy to see you."

Abigail and Ivan blinked in union, and Earth realized he was sitting across two very thick-skulled beings. He sighed. Further explanation was clearly necessary for these two- knowing that both were mostly about power and strength, not smarts. He stood up and walked over to the huge clock face and cleared a spot to look out-however, when he touched the glass, it melted with an imprint identical to his hand, but not all the way through. Ivan watched that more intently than he listened to what the old man had to say next. "I am Earth, you understand that. I _am _this planet. I have four hemispheres for each of the four directions. They had the earliest civilizations, which became…you. Now do you understand?"

Ivan was imagining a huge family tree with him at the head, nodding in comprehension. Abigail, however, was wondering how he managed to have children on his own. Maybe there was a girl version of Earth- Mother Earth- but then, where was she? Even still, that was strange. The old man looked expectantly from the edge of the black platform, his hands on the rail, breathing heavily. Abigail's eyebrows furrowed, and she accidentally backed into the box behind her. When Earth looked out the window again as he let the thought sink in, Abigail grabbed Ivan by the scarf and jerked his head down to hiss in his ear. "We should leave. Like, seriously, this guy is really scaring me."

"Why?" Ivan said cheerfully. "He's family." He waved to the man for Abigail to look at as he fell into a noisy fit of coughs into his hands. The room started to heat up, strangely, making Abigail even more uncomfortable as she let go of Ivan's scarf and let him stand up straight again, looking down at her as she spoke again.

"I don't care, this place is really hot and it's obvious we weren't supposed to find it. Really, I think we should go…" She grabbed his sleeve and tried to yank him toward the door, but as she'd learned before, he was clearly stronger than her, so he didn't move. Abigail sniffled in protest.

"You don't have to leave," laughed Earth warmly, gesturing at her. "I never thought I'd ever speak to another one of my grandchildren. It's been a really long time since I have."

"Have?" Ivan repeated questionably. Abigail was ignoring everything around her, her head spinning with emergency escape plans. She didn't want to be in here anymore- she was starting to sweat in the heat, triggering adrenaline and making her jittery. "You've met one of us before? Did they have to keep it a secret?"

"No, no," Earth answered. "He didn't have to. He went where all the others are- I think of all people would know who I'm talking about. Abigail, maybe not. Ivan, you remember Prussia, don't you?"

Ivan immediately recalled Gilbert. Shaggy grey hair and red eyes- he'd been a been a rather rambunctious country and a little self-absorbed, but he'd known his for a long time. Prussia, or Gilbert Belschmidt, had been Germany's older brother, though they only were alike when drunk. Ivan saw Gilbert much more than Germany, being closer to each other had made that simple, but Gilbert didn't really like the idea of having an alliance as much as Ivan had, so he hadn't seen him often. Yet he remembered the devastation absence of the country when he had left, feeling extremely surrounded by people who refused to see him and people that hated him. Well, at least he'd had Toris after that, he thought optimistically. "Yes, I remember how his nation was dissolved." Then, a thought dawned on him, and he narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Did you have something to do with it?"

Earth laughed out loud now, a very loud, happy laugh that was extremely unnecessary and made Ivan nervous. "Oh, Russia," Earth began, this time approaching them with ease, not faltering in his steps as before. Ivan and Abigail took a simultaneous step back, keeping the space between them, and Earth halted, his face yet again serious as ever. He spoke with a low, dead voice that was all fact and no emotion. "Of course I did," he admitted without remorse. We all did- even you."

"I had nothing to do with that!" Ivan cried, his voice breaking with such sadness that Abigail bit her lip and looked away from him. "Gilbert was my friend! I wouldn't-" He had pointed to himself, leaning forward to shout a little while Earth grit his teeth. Ivan didn't continue, he didn't dare with the angry look Earth had now.

"And yet you took his land," Earth said harshly. He paced back and forth between them, mumbling something while pressing a finger to his lips. Ivan realized that this man had just as many mood swings as Belarus, and he wished he'd retreated while Abigail had said so. "You countries, all of you…" Earth said under his breath. Then he stopped pacing and looked them in the eye with dark anger written across his wrinkled face, his lips pressed together. "I suppose you're going to blame me for all this," he stated toward Ivan, yet the blame was just as much as Abigail's as it was his.

Ivan didn't even think about the words he blurted next. "Yes, I do," he said, his eyebrows in a hurt arch on his forehead. "You took a friend away from me, and a brother from Ludwig-"

"A _brother?_" Earth was suddenly insane, and the room began getting hotter and hotter. He rushed at Ivan, getting in his face, the heat radiating off of _him _like he was a fire in the middle of the room, droplets of water all over his skin, dripping onto the floor with little wisps of steam floating up from the floor and curling up around them. Ivan flinched. "His brother couldn't tolerate him, we both know that. And _you? _you fool. Gilbert _hated _you. He told me himself. So don't you blame me for-"

"Hey, hey now," Abigail sputtered, watching Ivan's face turn from confusion to utter offense. "Listen, we didn't mean to make you angry," she said, timidly trying to move between them. "We just-" Then, as she put a hand on Earth's shoulder to try and create some space between them, she gave out an ear-shattering scream and leapt back, holding her hand while tears suddenly streamed down her face. Ivan twisted around, startled to see that her hand had somehow turned instantly black like she'd thrown her hand into a fire, charcoal and blood seeming to seep from her palm and fingers as she wailed in pain. Abigail stumbled back, gripping her wounded hand, and suddenly Earth rushed forward, and, enemy or not, he squashed himself between them, feeling the heat of his body that was unbearably hot. Abigail had fallen back over a box, blood now dripping on her clothes and through the cracks of the metal platform, unable to do anything.

They needed to leave, Ivan realized. Now. He backed away, putting his hands up, and then bent down to pull Abigail to her feet by the waist as she cringed around her hand. "Goodbye," Ivan said shortly, trying to step toward the elevator, but Earth was there in front of them, his face a sick, twisted, angry mess or wrinkles and skin. With a flourish, he backhanded Ivan across the face and grabbed his coat, which set on fire almost instantly. His face burned in the prints of Earth's wrinkled, bony hand, and he twitched against the wound, wanting to cover it with his hand. He frowned as Earth shook him, his lips twitching, beads of sweat all over his old body and dropping all over the floor like acid.

"Don't defy me, Ivan Braginski," Earth hissed loudly, his eyes slits as the little flames between them threatened to set Ivan on fire. He definitely wasn't an old man physically, Ivan figured, and not a very good great-great grandfather either. However, Earth snarled. "Don't think that I killed Gilbert just because I wanted to-"

"_MURDERER!"_ Ivan screeched, only hearing the first part of the sentence before going positively wild, and without hesitation, he shoved Earth out of the way and patted down his coat, his hands feeling as if they were on fire, but he hadn't touched him long enough to become charred and black like Abigail's. Earth flew back into the railing and bounced off it, unscathed, while Ivan grabbed Abigail before she could fully react and together they ran toward the elevator as fast as they possibly could, weaving between boxes and old objects, littering things everywhere and in their path, breaking lamps and creating a very loud trail behind them as they ran. The metal ramp clinked and shook as Abigail tittered, fumbling around, almost over the edge and then toward the other side as Ivan ran ahead while holding her good hand. The path was long, she doubted they'd make it to the elevator in time before Great-Great Grandpa Earth came after them faster than they could manage, but she ran as fast as she could, though her lungs burst before she wanted them to and she needed to slow, she needed a break-

Earth was behind her in a second, she hadn't even noticed he'd been following them, and before she could quicken her pace in one last attempt to get away, He'd grabbed the back of her hood, jerking her arm away from Ivan and the hood melting into a rubbed puddle on the plank. Ivan screeched to a stop, turned around and looked at the play before him. Earth didn't touch Abigail again, but she made a point of making sure not to move, her hand still throbbing and burning and bleeding, a reminder. Ivan didn't exactly know what to do- he _could _leave Abigail here, but his grudge was not against her. If it had been Alfred, he would've kept going without a second thought, but Abigail? He was struck with what to do, but staying was obvious, for now it was too late to run. He composed himself, realizing that Earth just made him mad, and if Abigail was going to be pushed around by anyone it should be one of the Russian nations, not the entire world.

"Give her back," Ivan said, his voice taking on an entire new air that was coated in sugar but layered with poison as his eyes hooded, dark purple.

"I might've let you go," Earth said. "I didn't want anyone finding out about me, but-"

"Oh, we won't tell!" Abigail said quickly, wheezing. She laughed hysterically, her eyes wide with fear as she tried to struggle away, but his grip was tight, tighter than Ivan's- tighter than ten of him. "Really, not a soul!" She assured his again, her boots scraping the metal floor loudly, the soles wearing.

Earth laughed, squeezing the back of her coat while he looked pointedly at Ivan. "I'm sure you won't," he said with a snakelike smile that Ivan did not like in the slightest as his lips came together. "And I'm sure you promise that now, but Americans have a bad rap about being able to keep secrets," Earth added, moving ever so closely to the edge of the rail.

"Not all of them!" Abigail protested, knowing fully that a fall from the top of the platform wasn't going to kill her, (not a lot could, but it had to be strength) though she didn't fancy being in pain for the few days. She looked franticly at Ivan, who was still wondering what exactly he should do, his head rotating between Earth and Abigail.

"Say hello to Prussia for me, why don't you?" Earth said with a mocking smile, then, with one gigantic heave, the American country was hurled over the edge of the platform and plummeted with an echoing scream toward the floor.

Ivan scrambled toward the edge, ignoring Earth just long enough to reach the edge, and be pushed over himself, the planet's hands burning into his back. Pain, searing all over his face and on his back, his coat burned, Abigail's scream hitting his ears that cut off so suddenly he knew exactly what happened and he knew that same thing would happen to him as the dusty floor came up to him faster and faster. The air hit his face as the ground rushed up at him like a bad dream, he wished he'd wake up, because only in dreams would he ever be so concerned about Abigail's general safety, but the ground coming ever so closer to them was now his main worry, because there was nothing he could grab to save himself, and as his hands flailed out into the air around him. He didn't scream as he fell, no…the air, rushing in and out of his lungs yet his mouth was open as if to scream something, anything, but he couldn't breath, he was too surprised. The cold air of the ground chilled him, it was no longer hot, and he was going to die cold, he was going to die by the same person that killed Gilbert, he was going to die-

With a sudden, painful jerk, everything was black.

Nobody heard the cacophony of screams and smashes outside the tower. No one would've suspected that the Earth just did away with Russia's male personification and America's female one- Alfred, in his apartment didn't notice a thing as he finally climbed into bed after playing almost an hour straight of Modern Warfare, suspecting that Abigail had gone to get some non-soggy McDonald's, and he'd wake up to her nagging him all the time, as usual. He'd just come back with telling her he'd go to Arthur's alone-see how she liked that. He rolled over in his bed and fell asleep, dreaming many American dreams and sleeping long into the morning. Ivisse waited for Ivan to come back, and when he didn't hours later, she merely set out a note from him angrily expressing in Russian how she worried about him all night long, then went to bed as well. Allison didn't know what happened, neither did Arthur or anyone who ever made random thoughts about Ivan or Abigail. Nobody cared, really, they weren't the most favorite countries in the world, and nobody suspected a thing.

You might wonder where exactly they ended up. Well, it's rather hard to explain. What we have in this story, I say, is a town that does not exist with a demonic clock tower with the planet itself rotting inside, who has gone mad much like the world and all it's people have as well. Yes, I believe that the world itself will bring it's most disastrous destruction, whatever that may be, like a massive pile of nuclear waste spreading all throughout the sea, making every droplet of water poisonous or something. My imagination is a funny one, but Earth is a strange planet, so thus, we have Ivan and Abigail unconscious underneath the tower in a basement that does not exist underneath a town that does not exist. This may be confusing. But think of it like this: this world that does not exist has layers of non-existence. You have the top layer (the town, the tower, ect, ect,) which is the most 'existent' of the nonexistent. Then you have the basement which is slightly less existent. Anything below that is just madness. So, think of an old, grimy basement. Pick the darkest place out of your memory and then imagine slime growing up the walls all around you, shelves of things you don't recognize piled all over the surface and a musty smell so thick you could taste it. Yes. That is the nonexistent basement-world that happens to be below the place that does not exist, and it is a right labyrinth of a lower level. Then again, many countries in their time of dire need took a good liking to the underground. Abigail, when she woke a couple hours later, had always sort of imagined The Underground Railroad, had it ever existed in real life, to look exactly like this. But Abigail and Ivan, both in pain as they lie on their backs on the floor, ironically enough, almost touching- ironic to think that two enemies such as this would be so close to each other and not trying to rip out their throats. Actually, these two 'enemies' neither thought contempt toward each other when they woke, or anything at all for that matter, because the only thought that went through their head that was conceivable went like this: What is going on? (with many variations, of course)

However, the last time Ivan had ever felt so comfortable, he'd been passed out drunk in a snowy bank in the middle of Siberia, absolutely comfortable, the taste of vodka on his lips. He felt no pain at all, which was surprising for the massive fall he'd taken. He lay on his back, his arms spread a little beside him, his coat still smelling burnt and his face still stinging, his back on fire. A few feet from where he lay, Abigail's coat that was mainly rubber was almost completely melted in the back- Earth's core was extremely hot, so that must be the reason for the steam and the fire, and when he touched both of them, the temperature had burned through everything, including Abigail's own flesh, which probably meant (in actual world terms) that some forest in California or somewhere just burnt to the ground, and some field in Russia experienced a wildfire. Abigail's hand made a little pool of blood on the floor, not quite yet clotted from how much she'd stretched the cracks and creases in the wound, causing pain to flow up and down her wrist, her fingers twitching involuntarily to the pain. There was something irritating about the drunken feeling that finally brought Abigail to breath in, and open her eyes. It was dark. Well, she wondered mostly if she was dead or not. It wasn't exactly what she'd been expecting. She'd hoped not to feel the pain she was experiencing now when she did eventually die, but the pain finally bothered her enough that she sat upright and cupped it to her chest, whimpering. She wasn't sore, no, not in any place other than her hand. Nations healed quickly and only rarely got sick at all, so it must've been a couple hours at least for her to have been asleep and fallen that far. Becoming unconscious was inevitable with a fall like that, she guessed, but she wasn't a doctor either, so she didn't quite know.

As Abigail was sitting in the dark and Ivan was having present memories of snowy fields and vodka, let's switch to the underscore of our problem and take a look at what was happening at that moment in time above. Ironically, there was only one person that knew of the 'basement' part of the town that did not exist, and that person didn't give a care in the world about it. He thought it was all ordinary, that it was just a basement for his own disposal to use. And use it he did, when no one was looking. This person happened to be Arthur Kirkland.

Now, taking a closer look at Arthur Kirkland's background, a few things come to mind: One; the positive insanity of many of his monarchs that had ruled the country, causing himself to go a bit on the loopy end as well (for example: King George the Third, Henry the Eight, ect, ect,) which might be a cause for the next thing (no, it is not his eyebrows, but they are definitely worth mentioning, aren't they?) which was the fact he considered himself to be able to practice magic. He was able to, on occasion, though Ivan himself could boast stronger magic if the opportunity ever presented itself in a battle of such skills. Arthur's basement was constructed for that purpose- to be somewhere where he could do this and that without being bothered. In the moment, you might wonder if Allison knows about this basement, and the answer is, quite shockingly, no. Allison was more obsessed in keeping things tidy and learning bubbly, useful little skills, if anything supernatural, so the fact that she did not know about this basement wasn't entirely unbelievable. Arthur didn't often use his basement these days- the last time he had was to cure Alfred of a stomach ache almost a full year ago because his digestive system was giving his plumbing a little trouble. So, the hope that Arthur would go downstairs and conjure up a curse for no apparent reason was a dim one. But a hope was a hope, because, coincidentally, the only was out that the two could hope for would be the entrance to his basement. Even more ironically, neither of them knew it existed. Arthur was particularly good at keeping a secret, which, in this case, was a bad thing.

To bore you even further with useless facts that will come in handy later that you might want to skip over but just be confused with later, the basement of the town that did not exist may have had one legit exit that could properly be called such, yet there were other ways out that aren't as cozy to think about. Actually, taking a trip somewhere Arthur keeps curses and spells isn't all that inviting either, if you really want to think about it. Yes, you _could _get out of the basements by this cozy alternative: the sewer. Every town has one beneath it (every proper town, some small villages don't, but for fiction's sake, we can say this one did), so, as such you might thing this: Wouldn't it not exist more than the town itself did not exists? But then again, when exactly do you think of the sewer on a whim? So, the sewer does not exist as much as the town doesn't exist. That's all very confusing, so we won't go farther downstairs for now. (Then it would exist even less than the sewer exists which doesn't quite exist as much as the town doesn't exist, which, to say, does not exist, for a little sample) So, to narrow it down, the basement did have other 'unofficial' exists such as sewer taps and little windows below apartments, and Ivan and Abigail aren't quite doomed to have to wander around until they find Arthur's basement which happens to hold a cauldron inside it.

Back to the top side of our story, where Abigail painfully sits up in the middle of a basement room holding her hand painfully, Ivan is jerked from his sleep to experience a rather cold, dank, floor. After a fall such as the one the two have experienced, obviously they were sharing the same thought (other than 'what was going on,' after they got over that in the first seconds of their disaster they thought this thought): Where they dead? No, Ivan couldn't really think he was dead. His idea of dead had to do with bright white lights at the end of a dark tunnel. Well, he had the tunnel part in abundance. Where was the light? And _never _in his _wildest _dreams would he _ever _want to share his afterlife with _Abigail F. Jones._ No, he was still painfully alive, he figured, and he flopped backward back onto the floor in hopes he could die of thirst or hunger very quick. This hope was not granted, and the two sat in silence, waiting for one or the other to make a move and say something. Abigail, is was given a choice of words to lead out with, would've said, "This is your fault." Which, was a lie, obviously, but Ivan beat her to speaking first by saying, "I think we are in a pickle."

Hearing _Ivan Braginski _saying the word 'pickle' with his deep voice that had no body Abigail could see, and despite their condition, she burst out laughing. Her laughter was joined hesitantly, and for a couple minutes, Ivan and Abigail, two enemies, spent their first moments in a wasteland beneath the town that did not exist cracking up about something completely pointless. Ivan wasn't exactly sure what he was laughing about, but for all he could tell, laughing was a lot better than screaming bloody murder like he wished deep, deep, deep, _deep _inside himself. And then they both stopped abruptly, and silence consumed. Not total silence- there was an eerie _drip, drip _coming from the left and a scary yawning, howling noise coming from the right, and something, Ivan could've sworn he knew it was alive, scurried around the room. Had they been friends, they might've screamed rather loudly and held on to each other, and, in both of their minds, they wished they could do that, because-even though Abigail expressed it more than Ivan- they were _very _afraid. Afraid of what they had discovered together, afraid of each other, afraid of what exactly was going to happen to them. They both expressed fear in different ways. Abigail and Alfred often would scream and frantically run about, grabbing on to anything that could possibly save them, but adrenaline (and the fact that groping Ivan didn't exactly appeal to her) was the only thing keeping Abigail doing more than chatting her teeth together and rubbing her forearms, her feet twitching nervously. When Ivan and Ivisse were frightened, usually they hid anywhere that could shelter from the said horror and hope it would leave. Unfortunately, there was no place he could see that was suitable to hide, so the two of them sat for a long time in painful, frightened agony.

While all this was happening, let me remind you of something: Ivan and Abigail, when they first met in the courtyard outside, broke down the door and left it propped up in the doorway. Earth did not know this, so it wasn't in his interest to go down the elevator and prop it back in the right place. On the surface, the sun was rising, giving light to this fact, but all throughout the day, only two people would notice and two people would take action. The first person to notice it happened to be Abigail's sister, a thin Canadian girl named Matilda that enjoyed taking walks when the sun was just rising. Being mostly shy like her brother, though both of them wanted to have friends, she did pick the time of day where almost nobody was awake. Except maybe Germany, but he took jogs out in the country to satisfy the personal need to stay fit, and didn't wander around the town that did not exists in the morning. Matilda liked to walk around the town and see the light come up through the buildings and empty shops. If there was anyone in the world that would be lonely in a town that gave you everything, it would be her and her brother Matthew, for…obvious reasons. The Canadian country itself was often forgotten, and that was because there just wasn't much special about it. Most it it's land, like Russia, was uninhabitable, full of tundra and cold. There was a low crime rate and a good government, so not much made the news, exactly, and their citizens were extremely friendly to everyone. The fact that it was a large country didn't really have effect on Matthew and Matilda's body size, both of them were shorter than their American siblings, though the entire family of England and France's succession had blonde hair and blue eyes. However, Abigail and Matilda did have their differences. Even though both their male counterparts wore glasses, neither of them did, but Abigail wore her hair short and was in more frumpy, busy waves whereas Matilda's hard reached the middle of her back and was neatly wavy because she slept in braids. Abigail often dressed like she didn't care at all, but Matilda picked out her outfits carefully to set off her looks- she _was _pretty, but Abigail could always boast being more attractive to the social crowd, so Matilda just wore nice shirts and skirts. As she walked past the tower that day, which she hadn't really noticed until then because she had a little nightstand version of it in her bedroom, she saw this: the door was open. With an umbrella propped on her shoulder, she leaned over and looked inside, and saw what lay there: dust, books, and lost of old furniture. Though, one thing did stand out to her, and it was a jacket of Arthur's.

Why it was there, Matilda didn't know, but to say that there was many other possessions he'd lost over the ages (and other countries as well) jumbled in there was a big of an understatement. Though, this was the only thing she really noticed, because she recalled Arthur making a loud fuss and blaming Alfred for it, who denied it in a way that Arthur could've only marked him as lying. Well, she stepped inside and took the jacket from where it lay, covered in dust, and put it on her arm. She might as well return it, she thought, and she quietly stepped out of the clock tower, and on her way out, she noticed a canon, two strange uniforms, a cracked mirror, and an old coat. Who lived here? Matilda couldn't help but wonder as she weaved back through the dusty place with Arthur's jacket draped over her arm, and she silently left the building staying where, up above where she didn't even bother to look, Earth laughed at himself in triumph for getting rid of two pesky great-great-grandchildren. She didn't hear his laughs, but they echoed loudly off the walls like a vibraphone singing out it's praise to a deaf person. And Matilda walked through the streets, and around the corner where the little English cottage stood in a little section of highland outside the town. If you wandered far enough on that highland eventually you'd find the elegant French mansion where she often visited Francis Bonnefoy and his female gender (which were oddly similar, to tell the truth), and beyond that was the Russian house that Matilda rarely visited, if ever. However, Ivan and Ivisse were two very friendly people- not someone she didn't mind hanging around at all, to be exact, it was Alfred and Abigail who disapproved of those kind of visits.

She knocked on the low wooden door softly, but loudly enough that anyone who was awake would hear. A second passed, and then a voice flitted through the door, and it opened a crack, a green eye looked out, then it fully swung open.

Arthur must've forgotten he was wearing his pajamas the second Matilda knocked on the door. Or maybe she'd gotten him out of bed, she didn't know, but there had to be a reason the usually refined British gentlemen was wearing a black shirt with white letters that said "I Am Not Amused," and plaid pajamas pants that clearly needed a wash. Maybe he'd been out to the pub the night before, one could only guess, but then against, Arthur was more familiar with Matilda than Abigail and Alfred combined- when he remembered her, that is.

"Matilda!" He cried, clearly delight, his face contorting into the friendly older-brother figure she'd always known. "What a surprise! You can come out the rain, if you like."

Matilda smiled nervously. "Actually I just dropped by to give this back to you," she said, her voice naturally rather quite and airy. She handed him the jacket carefully, and he raised the jacket up, wondering whether or not to be surprised or grateful.

"_You _had it all this time?" Arthur laughed in nervous apprehension. Matilda knew his reaction was much different than one he would've given Alfred or Abigail. "My God, I would've never guessed!"

"I didn't take it," she contradicted quickly, and continued after his confused look. "I found it." She pointed over her shoulder on the horizon behind them. "In the clock tower. Along with some… other… stuff."

Arthur leaned curiously out the doorway and looked beyond Matilda's shoulder at the ominous clock tower hovering above the town's walls. He threw the jacket on his shoulder and stiffened back into his doorway. "What kind of things?" he asked slowly, not able to say he wasn't interested in something a little off-limits. Of course, Arthur liked to stay at home, calm, but even Matilda knew that he had a bit of a wild side that liked this sort of things.

"Some canons," Matilda described, moving her hands around to show what she meant. "A couple coats, a mirror, some of the Revolution stuff-"

At the drop of the last thing, Arthur was running up the stairs to get dressed. "You have to show me this! Let yourself in, of course, I'll get cleaned up!" He cried, mischievously delighted at another hint into what exactly made Alfred and Abigail come out so strong at the end of the Revolution. It wasn't the canons, that was for sure, Matilda thought, and she closed her umbrella and stepped inside the cozy entrance as she listened to Arthur scurry from his room to the bathroom multiple times, all the while Allison somehow sleeping through the flurry of bangs and slams. Then, only about two minutes later, Arthur stumbled down the steps again wearing plain pants, a button up shirt and the jacket she'd found, holding a flashlight. She wondered how he could tell they needed it- but it was obvious that anything that came from Alfred's Independence had to come from somewhere dark and crawling with dust. They walked out into the rain together, the umbrella over their heads, and Matilda showed him the door that was propped open on the side while Arthur greedily slipped into the room and picked through the items. He recognized some, some he didn't, but then, in the middle of a silent, triumphant chuckle, he froze, standing in between a few desks, but in the middle of the clear spot on the floor.

You might wonder what Arthur felt just then. Having no experience that I can recall having to do with magics (because anyone sane wouldn't have experienced them) but I would imagine a sensation coming from something supernatural would feel tingly or at least chilling. Whatever it felt like, Arthur was immediately aware that the tower was not normal. The floor seemed to vibrate with some sort of energy that Matilda didn't notice as she picked up a big feather had and tested it on her head in the mirror, but Arthur did. He blinked, clearly feeling like he was getting a message from the other world, and crouched on the floor, putting his fingers on the stone floor and thinking for a while.

If you recall, I said Arthur would simply not go into his basement on a whim. No, this was not a whim- this was something completely different. During his magic practices that rarely worked, he always felt _something,_ something like this, at least. But he wouldn't quite figure it out for a while, how they would live in a town that did not exist, but it was still there- how was it possible? He wasn't thinking about that, though, as he crouched with his hands on that floor, testing the depth of the magic. Earth, above them, did not notice their presence, however, Arthur knew that whoever was using the floor that seemed to hum had a lot of magic up his sleeve- of course, when he was with Russia when he cast his curse on Japan, it felt like something was slithering into his body, which caused him to become nervous. This feeling, however, felt like a step down from an electric shock- jolting, but yet, vibrating.

"Arthur?" Matilda leaned over and had come up to him, starting him in the face quietly. "What's the matter? Your hair's standing up on end."

"Um, uh," Arthur had a little trouble finding his words. Actually, he thought with sedated brain activity, it felt a lot like the sixties when he'd listened to 'Lucy in The Sky With Diamonds' and had agreed to smoke weed with France. An experience that was delightful, but one he didn't want to happen twice, and he shook off the powerful feeling and stood up, grabbing Matilda by the arm and hauling her out of tower quickly. "Let's go get some tea at my place," he said, daring to drag her as far as possible from that strange place. "Wouldn't you fancy some tea?" He laughed nervously. "I know I would." Anything to get him away from that place, at least.

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><p><em>I was up at six something eating almost a package of mints while I typed this- the morning hours are the best for typing, I think. Well, with that said, please read and review.<em>


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